Reconstruction Site

I have recently realised that my grief has shifted. It is not gone, it never is, but it has turned somehow easier to deal with, less panic inducing, less physical. I have given this some thought and I have come to the conclusion that at this point I don’t see this losses as something I could have but has been taken away from me. If the only father figure I had during my earliest childhood had not died ten years ago, he would definitely be dead by now. It’s not that he died prematurely, but that the loss felt premature to me. The fact that he went at a time when I needed his presence so much made it almost unbearable. I was mad. I often cried out “why did you have to go so soon?” not because it was unreasonable for him to die but because he left an incredible emptiness at the worst of times. Now, though, I am almost glad that my grandparents did not have to live through this mess. There is finally a good thing about the fact that they are gone, and that has helped to shift my grief from pain and emptiness to gratefulness. I am forever thankful that they loved me the way they did and I will always feel lucky that they didn’t live to see this pandemic.